


if this is what you want (then fire at will)

by semikusa



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Illegal Activities, M/M, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 14:10:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15996818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semikusa/pseuds/semikusa
Summary: Nakajima Yuto decides to give up everything for the pursuit of justice— justice, perhaps? And Yamada Ryosuke— he promises he won’t be alone.This is not Yuto's. This is not Yamada's. This is their battle.





	if this is what you want (then fire at will)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chocolatecrack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatecrack/gifts).



> Mafia/Police AU for chocolatecrack-san. It treads a bit far from the prompts you listed, but I hope you enjoy it still. Some scenes are meant to be vague to be succinct, and hopefully, it doesn’t sound pretentious. The title comes from the song “Thank you for the Venom” by My Chemical Romance. 
> 
> Thank you so much to the mod for being so considerate and Y for beta-ing. I really couldn't have done it without you two.

**** It all leads up to this moment. He wonders if it was the right decision. Or if he shouldn’t have ever considered it in the first place. 

 

“It is with great honor that you put your life at great risk for the goodwill of our citizens, for our country. We can’t be any prouder.” 

 

Lackadaisical words shoot in and out of his ears. He’s heard these countless of times, wondering if they really meant it. It’s probably scripted for situations like these since they really couldn’t give a damn about someone like him: disposable, replaceable. It’s supposed to make him feel better, but nothing can stop the boiling discomfort in the recesses of his gut.

 

—

 

He thinks to himself how he’s unfortunately convenient. As an enforcer of the law, obviously it’s no doubt that he’s dedicated to the goodwill of the citizens, putting their safety and security above all, and as a complete nobody, with hardly any background except that he’s probably been through at least four orphanages and that he used to fuck around a lot. Not that it’s worth putting down on paper.

 

He decides that in order to change something, you must start from within. Literally. He’s being sent off into the den of monsters and made to become  _ one of them.  _ Of course, he acts accordingly, under the pretense that he finds fulfillment in dealing with the darker areas of society, the underhanded ways he supposedly despises. But it’s all for the sake of protecting society. If it has to be done, then so be it.

 

Everyone congratulates his bravery like he’s going off to war, or like he’s won the lottery, but it feels like the former and he wishes it was the latter. He doesn’t feel like it’s anything great if anything he’s feeling the jitters. Of course, there’s the thrill of being within the inner workings of the underground, but  _ anything _ can happen. It may not even work at the start. He’ll never know.

 

Though there is one person missing out, or rather excusing himself from the celebrations. Yamada Ryosuke, his partner-in-crime ever since they were rookie, starry-eyed detectives. Now more hard-boiled and matured, and despite their fair share of fights and arguments, they still stick together like glue. Though looking at them now, it feels like a far fetched idea. He doesn’t understand why he’s getting the silent treatment. They’re too mature to butt heads but they’re too childish to get over their own pride. He has left it for a while, but it’s become unbearable the past days and he can’t take anymore.

 

Was he jealous over all the praise Yuto is garnering? They’re over that stage. 

 

Did he want the job? He never showed any interest towards it, even until now.

 

Or was it the fact that Yuto was going to disappear? That it would truly mean they would be apart?

 

Impossible, they were nothing like that.

 

—

 

The room is chilling and somber, making Yuto feel more jittery than he should be. The cold stares from his seniors, and that lack of familiarity, makes him feel smaller than he already is. What he finds most unnerving is the enigmatic smile from the superintendent, like he’s anticipating Yuto to be thrown into a den of lions. Yuto searches the room for at least a sign of comfort, a second of respite, but the flickering lights play around, making their features even sharper and more intimidating than they usually look. Their faces remain hard and impenetrable, and Yuto recognizes that he’s all, all alone.

 

It’s all the same: a briefing of his duty, how he should contact them, a reminder that he is someone who no longer is a police officer, and that anything could happen. He knows they mean they can’t save him out of scuffles, or if things go awry, he’s to deal with it himself. It makes him feel like nothing but expendable, but he doesn’t take it to heart. Just a bit. 

 

“Thank you for being so brave.” Sakurai pats him on the shoulder and brushes past.

 

“I’m sorry,” Matsumoto can only say, face unreadable. He’s trying at least.

 

“I’m putting all of my faith in you.” Takizawa shakes his shoulders, slightly gleeful and optimistic as if it truly helps.

 

He exits last and meets the gaze of Yamada who’s stayed behind to work on another case. He merely nods and his lips remain a tight line. He nods back in courtesy and leaves him behind. 

 

So much for a heartfelt goodbye.

 

—

 

The first few months are mostly a drag: clerical work, boring errands, or guard duty. It’s almost like being a clerk at the police station, except you’re protecting what they’re after. Of course since losing his address means losing his current apartment, he’s made to stay in some dingy dormitory for the lower ranked lackeys, usually the new recruits or the demoted. It’s not all that bad, save for the occasional lack of hot water and barely working fluorescent light bulbs. There’s an odd fish smell, but he’s gotten used to it in time. In his room lives two other occupants, Yamazaki and Okamoto. They’re a lot more meek than what one would expect from your typical Yankee, so he’s guessing that they must have mixed in with the wrong crowd.

 

They all did.

 

—

 

Okamoto got himself into trouble after overstaying his visa and he knows practically next to no one, forcing him to ask for help from the yakuza. It was  _ that  _ bad. They recruited him anyway because he could speak English and it’d help in negotiations. Yamazaki said he’s gotten in with the help of friends, and he really didn’t have anything to do. They never really questioned the obscurity of his history, probably already adjusting themselves to the vagueness of their business. It meant not asking too many questions yet having to completely trust one another. Something like that. 

 

—

 

Being inexperienced means he has to train all over again, and it also means he has a mentor. His mentor is nearly the same age and there’s somewhat that degree of familiarity. Suda’s kind of a friendly guy, always laughing at jokes, no matter how dark or morbid, somewhat anomalous, either looks like a hobo or a supermodel, has a really great singing voice, and turns into a monster when angry. His partner is another man named Nomura, usually on his bike, driving around or performing some tricks (which is why he’s barely there), or playing with his border collie. He likes tanning naked a lot too. They’re an odd pair but they make it work, though they argue a lot. It’s really nothing different from the people outside. Not everyone is a pissy, lone-wolf dude that usually has shades on, like how they’re portrayed in media. 

 

For some reason, with Okamoto, Yamazaki, Suda, and Nomura, he fits in all too well, like a missing puzzle piece. It feels too oddly familiar and right.

 

—

 

“Ever wonder why drugs are illegal?”

 

Yuto blinks. The answer is obvious. It’s addicting and can pose harm to the public if misused. But he stays silent.

 

“Because the government isn’t the one who profits from it.”

 

—

 

Yuto can only gape in shock, like a child learning Santa isn’t real but Suda barely takes notice, continuing,

 

“They’re the ones who brought it into the market. I mean, from back then who’d buy off crazy dudes? Besides, they weren’t meant for habitual consumption anyway.”

 

And that was the first time he ever tried the good ones.

 

—

 

Yamada is adjusting quite easily, he’s already built rapport with everyone else who wasn’t his partner, so he doesn’t feel that lonely. Of course, he’s reminded of Yuto’s quirks and his favorite memories and he ends up feeling wistful at times, but he immediately remembers that there’s work to be done.

 

Since Yuto’s position has been opened up, a new face appears in their station. Arioka is a small, quirky young man who never runs out of embarrassing dance moves and corny jokes. He has easily won the hearts of everyone around him, and undeniably Yamada’s. (He’s just glad that there are other people shorter than him). He’s incredibly devoted to his job and he gets along with the citizens. The perfect example of what an enforcer of the law and the protector of the people should be and Yamada (not admittedly) looks up to him, no matter how many times he calls him ugly. 

 

“I just want justice for the people who deserve it,” he says. For some reason, those words echo through his ears.

 

—

 

Yamada is definitely not lonely. Chinen is always,  _ always _ there to bother him and use him as his wallet, Yabu occasionally updates him on news about soccer and suggests they play sometime, and Hikaru has his daily set of imitations and odd dishes he brings to work every day. They’re an odd bunch but they all vibe together anyway. They’ve worked in different cases together and been partnered with each other. It would be an understatement to say they just got along.

 

Why, Yamada asks, why become a police officer. Yabu immediately answers, “I’ve always wanted to be one since I was a kid, I thought it was cool and all. I guess it’s fun here and there too.”

 

Hikaru ponders a moment, rubbing his chin for the added effect, “Solving cases are fun, despite all the whirlwinds and dead leads. And it doesn’t have that much math!” 

 

Chinen almost beams, “All for my wonderful, precious Ohno-kun.” He punctuates it with a wink. 

 

“Is it really okay for you to be calling our captain like that?” Yamada rolls his eyes.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with that, is there? It’s a pure and innocent love, Ryosuke.” 

 

—

 

“Aren’t you lonely that Yuto-kun isn’t around anymore?” Chinen props his elbow on the desk, resting his chin on his palm.

 

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” Yamada says.

 

“Like who?”

 

“Morimoto in Forensics. Isn’t he the only reason why you go there? You hate seeing gross things otherwise.”

 

“Piss off, Ryosuke.” He huffs, pushing the chair back almost forcefully, the legs screeching as they skid the floor.

 

—

 

When Yuto finally works hard enough and is trusted well enough, he’s made to get a tattoo of his choice. Since they’re not communists and it’s too old school to get tattoos of their insignia or symbol, Yuto’s allowed to get any of his choice, as long as it’s big enough. 

 

He gets a tattoo of an aconite, a tall stem of purplish blue flowers, shooting up from the base of his spine, crawling up to the base of his neck. Some of the flowers curl around his shoulders, kind of like inked shoulder pads. He spends a great deal marveling at the intricate work, from the heavily detailed flowers to the dense ink on his skin, and it feels like his skin is on fire. The pain sears when he stretches and it feels heavy on his back. There’s a slightly eerie feeling to it, like that pang of discomfort that creeps up slowly.

 

It’s really beautiful, Yuto admits.

 

—

 

It’s their first assignment soon and the three of them are on the edge of their seats. If this fails, then suspicion will fall automatically on them, being the less trusted among the older ones; and if all goes wrong, Yuto will be incarcerated on the spot. He doesn’t want to do it, but he  _ has  _ to. For the sake of the greater good. He’s losing hours thinking of all the possible outcomes and contingency plans and Yamazaki and Okamoto can’t help but worry. He smokes more than he should because it makes him forget a while and it staves off the temptation on drugs. He will  _ not  _ fall that far. 

 

He fiddles with his fingers while slouching on the couch, not really knowing what to do or what to think and Suda plops beside him and stretches an arm around his shoulder, shaking him. Yuto’s eyes widen in surprise but he eventually sighs and leans into the touch, explicitly discomfited. Suda doesn’t say anything though and he’s grateful for the silence. It’s odd how he finds comfort in people he’s only known for a good two months. It’s almost like he belongs.

 

“We all start like this. Just trust yourself and follow protocol and everything’ll be fine.” Suda says, patting Yuto on the back a bit too hard. 

 

“Does everyone make it out?” He rasps, a little hoarse from forgetting to drink water amidst the nervousness. 

 

“Most of the time, yes. Only if the police don’t come or there aren’t any turf wars. Otherwise, there really isn’t anything much if you just stand and watch. Negotiations can go for hours though, so I guess that’s the worrying part.” Suda retracts his arm and leans on the other side of the couch. 

 

Nomura chimes in, sitting on the arm at Suda’s side, “Oh yeah, also if there isn’t some fucking police mole within us. Not that it ever happened to us, but it happens.”

 

Yuto’s throat grows dry.

 

—

 

He meets Yamada in the throng of busy streets because inconspicuous and isolated areas are for the underground. He finds him on a bench on the more dimly lit parts so it takes him a while to recognize his features. He sits on a bench behind Yamada, close enough but not right in front of each other. Play it cool, he said. Silence plays out for a while until Yamada coughs to break it.

 

“So. How is it? Being one of them.” 

 

Yuto absently smooths his hand over the bottom of his spine, where his tattoo stems from. “There’s really nothing much special or worth talking about. The action technically hasn’t happened yet.”

 

“You don’t kill people on a daily basis?” Yamada turns a bit, leaning his arm over the bench. Yuto does the same, laughing a bit loudly.

 

“What are you? Twelve? I’m pretty sure you know the answer to that.” He punches him lightly on the arm. He misses this.

 

“Is it better over there?” His tone light, but the feeling hits hard. 

 

“I don’t know.”

 

A beat.

 

“I miss you.”

 

—

 

Yamada’s kisses are at first desperate and hurried, like Yuto’s going to disappear. Nips a little too hard, no pauses for breathing, iron-tight grip on his nape; it hurts, but it hurts good. Yuto tries to take the reins a little, leading the kiss with more fervor, more passion, taking his time. It’s a battle for control but Yuto doesn’t concede. Yamada is the one that falls, and falls, and falls. Yuto smiles against his lips as if he’s won.

 

“Isn’t this wrong?” Yuto laughs a little breathlessly, his warm breath mingling with Yamada’s. They finally pull away, but their foreheads rest on each other. In this proximity, Yuto can see the dark fan of his eyelashes, little uneven gasps that leave his mouth slightly open, the beautiful contours of his face highlighted by the distant city lights. It’s alluring, seductive, tempting, all in one. There’s something more Yuto wants but there are a time and place for everything. 

 

“Kiss me again.”

 

“Okay.”

 

—

 

“You better make it out alive.” Yamada kisses him, featherlight, one last time. 

 

“Or what. You’ll kill me?” Yuto pulls him for another one.

 

“And everyone else.”

 

—

 

The deal is like any other: the usual shipment of drugs in some new warehouse to minimise tracks and leads. They’re laxer because they’re dealing with a trusted seller from the Kansai region, all negotiations have gone smoothly one way or another all thus far. Those facts still don’t calm the uncertainty boiling at the pit of Yuto’s stomach. He knows, he  _ feels  _ that something is wrong today, even if it’s his first day on this job. But who’s to trust a new guy?

 

He stands guard along with Yamazaki and Okamoto, and it’s been hours since the start. He’d be bored to death, but he’s currently occupying himself with fits of nervousness and anxiety. He doesn’t understand how Suda and Nomura can just complacently play poker while waiting, but it’s them and they’ve been in the business longer.

 

They are at vacant, dusty area, shielded from the public eye by the tall, aspen trees around the perimeter and it’s mostly silent sans the occasional whispers and sound of the waves crashing against the pier. There’s minimal movement as to not attract attention from passers-by and it’s simpler to monitor the people around. The air is still and chilly, the night is lonely. It seems like everything’s going to work out.  _ Seems like.  _ He can’t rest, he can’t relax, he can’t remiss. Time moves excruciatingly slow and despite the fact they’ve been working with these guys for so long, it’s taking them longer than he’d expect, and even what the others expect. 

 

A beat. And another, and another, and a few more. The thundering in his chest won’t stop. He knows this feeling. His back aches, his hand itches for something, his mind grows hazy, he’s—

 

A gunshot.

 

Suda picks up the cards in almost no time while Nomura searches for any suspicious people on the perimeter. Yamazaki and Okamoto spring to action, holding up their guns, ready for an attack. Yuto mimics the movement despite the shaky hands and loss of concentration. He can’t think. 

 

Who’s here?

 

Did something go wrong?

 

_ Did he go wrong? _

 

Nomura hisses through his teeth, bitter vitriol ready to spill out of his mouth but he knows better to stay as silent as possible.

 

“There’s a fucking snitch within us. This  _ isn’t _ supposed to happen.”

 

Yuto only remembers the glaring, almost blinding red and blue lights and the deafening cry of the siren. Everything else that comes after that is a blur, a distant echo.  He can’t understand the intermingling shouts around him, whether it’s for him or for the police. He can’t find his way. He doesn’t even know where they are. He’s lost Okamoto and Yamazaki. He’s hoping he doesn’t meet a familiar face because no one else  _ knows  _ that he’s the mole. He has no one now. He doesn’t know what to do next. The cacophony rings through his head, he is in an oblivion.

 

All he knows is that he’s running.


End file.
